


The Wilting Rose Job

by BastardSonOfDay (Diana_Raven)



Series: Bingo Prompts [12]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Abuse, Drugs, F/M, Gen, Leverage AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-05-31 21:08:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15127859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diana_Raven/pseuds/BastardSonOfDay
Summary: When Feyre finally convinces Lucien to come with her and run away from Tamlin Rose, the first place they head to is the Night Court restaurant and diner. When Rhysand tells Lucien the Inner Circle will kill Tamlin for all he's done, Lucien begs them to find another option. So, they do.But it only works if Tamlin never sees them coming.Leverage AU





	1. Runaways

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Abuse, getting back at an abuser  
> Modern AU, so um.. this kinda turned into a Leverage AU because I was… watching Leverage at the time… sooooooooooooooooooooooo
> 
> Prompt: Runaways

When Feyre grabbed Lucien’s uninjured arm and whispered “We’re getting out of here,” Lucien wasn’t sure what exactly she meant—neither of them had anywhere to go. At least, Lucien didn’t.

And Lucien couldn’t leave Tamlin. He-He couldn’t.

“He’ll find us, Feyre. He’ll-We’ll never get away.”

“We will. I have a plan. I’ve been working with some-” Feyre froze. The walls had ears and Feyre was terrified. “-some friends at the, the Night Court restaurant. You know, the one down on-”

“I know the one.” Lucien knew exactly what the people down at the Night Court restaurant did and what they were like. They were the type of people you didn’t piss off. Tamlin had just gotten away with his life last time he infringed on their territory, and Lucien wasn’t about to get involved with them.

“They… do this kind of stuff.”

“Feyre, what have you gotten us _into_?”

Feyre sat back on her heels. “I thought-I thought you’d be on board with this.”

“Fey, the Night Court are _dangerous_. Rhys is-”

“You know Rhys?”

Lucien swallowed thickly. “Yeah. I know him, he’s _dangerous_ Feyre. They _all_ are. You _do_ know they run the nastiest crew this side of the Atlantic, right?”

Feyre frowned. “They want to help me-They promise-”

“They almost _killed_ Tam once, Fey.”

“Almost isn’t good enough.” Feyre muttered under her breath.

Lucien slapped a hand over Feyre’s mouth. “You _can’t_ say that. He could _hear-_ ”

They both froze as they heard footsteps. Lucien’s heart beat in his ears, his breath came quick and because of how close they were Lucien could feel Feyre’s breath on his neck. He could feel her tense under his hand. Lucien knew if they were caught this close he’d be in trouble but as it was he was too petrified to move.

When the footsteps moved away Feyre let out a breath so loud Lucien tensed up again. When he finally went back to his constant state of agitation and alertness Lucien let his eyes weld up.

“ _Please_.” Lucien whispered. “ _Please,_ Feyre. Don’t do anything stupid. The Night Court are worse than Tamlin. Now, you gotta go before he finds us.”

“ _Nothing_ could be worse than Tamlin.” Feyre bit back. She pushed herself away from him and stomped out of Lucien’s room.

* * *

“Feyre, leave. Lucien, close the door.” Tamlin said softly. Lucien swallowed thickly. Feyre’s eyes flicked back and forth from Tamlin to Lucien. Lucien walked stiffly, his arm barely healed from the Incident in the kitchen.

Feyre couldn’t want him do this to Lucien. Not anymore.

“ _Feyre_ ,” Tamlin growled, “I said, _get out_.”

_Go_. Lucien begged her with his mind. _Go, please get out of here._

Feyre turned, each step paining her. Feyre walked through the door, and pressed her back to the wall in the hall. She closed her eyes as Lucien closed the door, and knew what she had to do.

* * *

Feyre awoke Lucien in the dead of night. “Feyre, no. We can’t-”

“I’m not letting him hurt you again, Lucien.” Feyre hissed. “Neither of us. Ever again.” Feyre reached out gently to touch Lucien’s face and he flinched away from her.

“I don’t have time.” Feyre whispered. “I’m going. Are you coming with me?”

Lucien stared at her eyes wide. He looked down at the bag in her hands. Then, back at her. “It’s a mistake.” Lucien whispered. “But it’s a mistake I won’t let you make alone.”

Feyre kissed Lucien’s forehead, and grabbed his hand. Together, they ran.

* * *

The Night Court was open when Lucien and Feyre arrived. The Morrigan, Lucien was one of the few who knew her on sight (thanks to Tamlin and Eris’s altercation with them), ushered them through the restaurant and into a back room. The room was already set up with two beds, a bathroom with a shower and a toilet, a kitchenette, and two dressers.

“This, this was your master plan.” Lucien asked Feyre.

“Anything is better than him.”

Lucien wanted to disagree, but he wasn’t necessarily free to. The Night Court employees—the gang called themselves the Inner Circle, as far as Lucien heard—were watching. He could feel their eyes on his back, their ears on the door, watching, wanting to see what he would do.

Lucien wouldn’t let himself give them the satisfaction.

A soft knock.

“Come in.” Feyre called out. “Just be grateful.” She hissed to Lucien.

_Just be grateful. That doesn’t sound like a recipe for disaster._ Lucien thought.

The Morrigan was the one to enter, if they thought that The Morrigan would somehow be the least threatening of all of them then they clearly didn’t know Lucien knew of her. “Are you two hungry? Thirsty?”

Feyre shook her head, thankfully. She ran to The Morrigan and _hugged_ her. Peeling back Feyre began to cry. “Mor, thank you _so_ much. We can’t thank you enough I-”

“Feyre, darling, it’s our pleasure. We’re going to keep you safe, I promise. Here,” Mor dug around in her purse and pulled out a packet of tissues, “here, darling use these.”

Feyre took them and blew her nose with them.

“How about you, Lucien? Need anything?”

_To be safe._ “I’m fine. Really, you’ve gone to enough trouble for us.”

The Morrigan smiled at Lucien, which only made him more uncomfortable. It must have shown on Lucien’s face ( _stupid stupid stupid!_ ) because the Morrigan’s face melted into one of… indifference.

Oh god. She was going to get angry. She was going to get angry and yell and-

“Okay. I’ll leave you two to settle in. If you want, we’re all upstairs on the second floor playing poker. Family game night, you know-”

“We don’t mean to intrude.” Lucien insisted.

“You wouldn’t be!” _Liar._ “We’d love to have you there!” _Liar, there’s not way she’s telling the truth._ She knew who Lucien was, what he’d done. Why would she ever do anything nice for him?

“Really, this is enough for us.”

Feyre smiled, and put a hand on The Morrigan’s arm. “I’d love to. Maybe… later, though.”

“Okay, well we’ll be up all night. It’s about two am now anyway, and Rhys and I have to be up by four, so if you need anything—anything at all—come on up.”

The Morrigan left the room and Lucien slumped onto the bed. He shook as he fell onto the mattress, he stared at his small duffle bag. Everything he had in the world, gone. Including his only way to make money, all of his accounts were in Tamlin’s name (not that Tam would let him have access to them), his books, his computer… Everything.

If he went back now, maybe Tam wouldn’t know. Maybe…

Feyre would be alone, all alone among these… people.

He couldn’t leave her, even if it meant getting into bed with a snake.

* * *

Lucien woke up to the sound of the shower running. He closed his eyes again, turning towards the wall his cot was pushed up against. He smelled cooking meat and bread from the restaurant. He was shaking, after a horrible night of bad dreams, he was more than happy to be awake, maybe for the first time.

The thrumming of the sound of the shower filled Lucien’s ears. He synchronized his breathing with the pulse. When Feyre finally turned it off, Lucien felt as though he’d been pulled out from underwater, all the pressure on his chest was gone. Lucien opened his eyes and turned back over when she exited the bathroom.

“Good morning.”

Lucien said nothing.

“How did you sleep?”

Lucien shrugged noncommittally.

“I’m sorry about last night. I know you didn’t want to come here. I just-I couldn’t stay there any longer. I had to leave.”

Lucien still said nothing.

“Do-do you want to shower? I know-I know we forgot to bring toiletries, but they have some for us. A bottle of shampoo and conditioner, and toothbrushes and stuff...” Feyre’s voice trailed off as she changed into fresh clothes. Lucien turned his head back towards the wall to give her privacy, and because he wasn’t in the mood to deal with her.

He felt pressure on the other side of his bed. Groaning, he turned towards her. Feyre pushed back Lucien’s tangled and matted hair from his forehead. “You should take a shower. You know it’ll make you feel better.”

Lucien scowled at her.

“Lucien, you hungry?”

Lucien was.

“I’ll go out to the rest-”

“ _No._ ” Lucien surged forward and grabbed Feyre’s hand. Feyre flinched back. “You can’t go out there! What if he sees you? What if-?”

“He won’t. He hates coming here, you know that.”

“What if someone he knows is here? Like Nuan or-?”

Feyre sighed. “Fine. I won’t go out there. But you have to know, we’re safe now.”

“ _How_? How are we safe now?”

“We aren’t being _abused_.”

“We can’t leave, or he’ll find us. All we did was trade one cage for another!”

“The Night Court isn’t a cage!” Feyre snarled. She stood up, glaring at Lucien.

“He’ll find you. And then he’ll do everything in his power to get you back, just like he did last time.”

Feyre’s eyes widened. “Yeah.” She growled. “And whose fault was that?”

_Mine. It was mine_. “Exactly. Now he doesn’t have _me_ to reel him in, can you imagine what he can do now?”

Feyre’s face fell, turning stony and angry.

Lucien was right, at least partially, and Feyre knew it.

“I’m hungry. Are you?” Feyre asked slowly.

Lucien nodded.

“I’ll get some food.”

“Feyre-”

“I’ll stay out of sight. He won’t know unless the Inner Circle tells him.”

“I’m only being like this because I don’t want to go back, you know that, right?” Lucien asked softly.

Feyre’s face stayed like stone. “That sounds like something _he_ would say.”

She wasn’t wrong, and Lucien knew it. But he couldn’t think of any other way. Lucien stood and took a shirt and a pair of jeans from his go-bag and headed towards the shower.

By the time he finished (washing his hair took a while) Feyre had managed to get food into their backroom. Trays packed with waffles, pancakes, bacon and eggs, bagels, toast and jelly—everything a person could possibly want for breakfast. The smell was mouthwatering, and too good to resist—even though Lucien did on principle.

He filled a plate (Feyre had also brought down coffee, orange juice, and water each in it’s own pitcher), and a mug of coffee, dumping a truckload of milk and sugar in. He would need it if he was to survive today. “Pass the syrup.” Lucien asked Feyre.

The soft knock on the door interrupted their meal, and Feyre called for the persons to come in.

Rhysand and Azriel entered. Lucien tensed, but kept eating.

“Can, can we sit down?” Rhys asked.

Feyre nodded smiling. Lucien shrugged. They sat.

“We uh, we realized we didn’t put a clock in here so… here’s one.” Rhys said. Azriel pulled one of thin air and stood. He starting putting it up. “I’m glad you like our food.” Rhys smiled. Feyre paused in her snarfing of the meal. Lucien had suddenly lost his appetite.

“We wanted to offer the two of you jobs.” Az said. That got Lucien’s attention. “Lucien,” Az acknowledged politely.

“Azriel. How’ve you been?” Lucien said, clipped.

“High school was a long time ago, Lucien.” Rhys said slowly. “Let’s not reopen old wounds.”

Lucien let his mask fall back into place. Now he was Lucien the Press Representative and CFO of Spring Court Consolidated- Well, not that he had a job there anymore.

“What do you mean ‘offer us jobs’?” Feyre asked, ignoring the past between Lucien and the Inner Circle members.

“We would offer you any jobs you want in the restaurant. Until we take care of Tamlin-”

Lucien was about to let the comment slide, and then he remembered just exactly what the Inner Circle was said to have done. “‘Take care of Tamlin.’ You’re not-You’re not going to kill him, are you?” Lucien asked. Fear built up in his gut, making his mouth taste like dust. He was glad for the mask he wore or he would have started shaking, but Lucien the Press Preresentative and CFO of Spring Court Consolidated didn’t tremble. He never had and never would, especially not in front of the Night Court’s CEO Rhysand.

Both Rhysand and Azriel looked confused. They turned to Feyre. “Yeah. We-uh, did Feyre not tell you about that?”

“No. You- You _monsters_!” Lucien cried. He flew to his feet, knocking over his coffee. “You bastards! You can’t kill him!” Lucien turned to Feyre. “Is _this_ what you want? Is _this_ why you brought us here?”

“Lucien, we need to stop him!” Rhys snarled. “We can’t keep him around! He’ll just come after you! You _know_ that!”

“You can’t kill him Rhys. I know the two of you would love to,” Lucien shot an angry look at Az but the man nodded as if it was a fair cop, “but he doesn’t deserve to die!”

“He _hurt_ you. Both of you.” Rhys was on his feet too. “I won’t stand by and let him get away with that!”

“You can’t kill him, Rhys. You can’t.”

“Oh yeah? And how could you stop me?” Rhys raised a hand on instinct, not to hurt Lucien, just to push him. But Lucien flinched. A big, notable flinch.

Rhys’s eyes widened, his jaw slackened. His hands fell to his sides.

Lucien was mad at himself. _Stupid stupid stupid stu-_ “Don’t _kill_ him, Rhys.” The words were steady but Lucien’s heartbeat was anything but. Normally confrontation didn’t take this much out of him, but normally when he argued with Rhysand he wasn’t trying to defend Tamlin’s (his friend, the only one who’d ever cared for him, who kept him safe and fed and happy, there had been good times, there could be again why didn’t they see that-) life. “You _can’t_ kill him. He didn’t _used_ to be like this, he’s still a _good person_.”

“The Tamlin Rose that took you in when you ran away from Beron is gone now. He left that person behind the first moment he laid a hand on you, and you know it.”

The words stung. Lucien’s eyes were wet. He remembered the moment. He’d fucked up a big deal going down between Spring and Dawn Dynamics and Tech and Tamlin-Tamlin had just lost his head for a moment, that was all. They’d argued, they’d shoved one another, and then Tamlin had-

Lucien told everyone he’d fell. And that was how it started.

Just like that, Lucien lost his mask. It fell away from him, cracked and broken. Crumbling beneath the weight of his heat.

“He’s still there.” Lucien whispered, his chest shook, his voice raspy and weak. “He’s still in there. After-After everything he’s been through, he’s allowed a couple bad years-”

“Lucien, getting drunk every night is a bad year, going to rehab is a bad year, buying an island for no reason— _that_ is a bad year. Hitting his best friend and keeping his girlfriend under lock and key, micromanaging every moment of her life, keeping you all so afraid the only people you could turn to for help were _us_. That’s not a couple of bad years, that’s abuse. Your friend is gone, Lucien. All we’d be doing is getting rid of the rest of him.”

_No. No, it’s not possible. He’s still there_. “He’s still there.” Lucien whispered. “He’s still in there. Don’t kill him. Put him in jail for life, sic the authorities or your-” Lucien grimaced at the word, “- _friends_ on him, just… don’t kill him. _Please_.”

Rhys stared at Lucien. Lucien had never begged Rhysand for anything; their relationship had always been anger and friction and sometimes kindness when it came to their acquaintanceship in high school. But never had he begged. Never had he asked Rhys for anything.

Now he was asking Rhys not to kill his abuser.

Rhysand glanced back at Azriel and Feyre. Together he and Azriel had a silent conversation.

The others would need to be notified. They would have a meeting planning it after the restaurant closed tonight.

“Fine.” Rhysand said. “We won’t kill Tamlin. We’ll just take him for all he’s worth instead.”


	2. The Failings of Honest Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucien may do something illegal, and everyone else definitely does something illegal.

The room was quiet when Lucien Vanserra and Feyre Archeron walked in. Mor, Cassian, and a woman Lucien had never seen before were playing poker at a table. Azriel sat next to them, watching the game boredly. If Lucien remembered correctly, Azriel didn’t gamble, not even amongst friends. Rhysand was pacing in the back of the stockroom, talking on the phone.

Feyre sat down in one of the open chairs (between Mor and the nameless girl), and rested her head on her hands. She watched the game, eyes flicking back and forth as the bet went around. Lucien crossed his arms and didn’t sit. He hung back by Feyre awkwardly.

Rhysand finished the call and stuck his phone in his pocket. He sat down and watched as the unknown woman won the bet, and with a smirk took the pot.

“Are we finished?” Rhys asked with a raised eyebrow.

Mor nodded, throwing down her cards.

The woman grinned, “For now.”

Cassian sighed, “I’m almost out of chips anyway.”

“Lucien, stay a while?” Mor invited.

The invitation shocked Lucien—which it shouldn’t have, a tiny voice in his head told him. But he was anyway. Why did they keep treating him… nicely? They hated him! He knew that! They’d even said those words on occasion to his face. And he hated them. He’d always had Tamlin there… Tamlin to take care of him…

Azriel pushed out the final empty chair with his foot.

Lucien sat.

“What happens in this room, stays in this room.” Rhysand said, his eyes boring into Lucien’s. Lucien hated when he did that, it was like he was reading Lucien’s mind. Everyone nodded.

“Let’s start with the basics, Azriel, what did you dig up?”

Azriel glanced at Lucien. “How do we know he won’t go running back to the bastard?”

Lucien scowled, tightening his hands into fists. “I won’t tell. Besides if I try to contact Tam he’ll track me down, and if I ever show Tam my face again, he’ll probably-” Lucien closed his mouth abruptly. Feyre flushed, twiddling her thumbs. No one said a word. “I’m his friend, but that doesn’t mean I’m… blind to the consequences of any further contact with him. I won’t tell.”

Mor wanted to comment on the fact that his statement in and of itself should have been a clue that Lucien was in an unhealthy relationship, but with a look from Rhysand she bit her tongue. Now wasn’t the time for that.

“Azriel.” Rhysand prompted. Az shot Lucien a distrusting look but tapped the black table at which they all sat, and that was when Lucien realized that the table was in fact more than that—it was a giant touchscreen.

Azriel brought up records—records there were no computerized copies of, Lucien knew first hand, records that shouldn’t have existed, and ones he shouldn’t have had access to.

“Where did you get these- _How_ did you get these?” Lucien cried, standing.

Cassian tensed, ready to defend. Lucien could see it out of the corner of his eye, and he sat back down. Lucien watched as Cassian relaxed, eyes back on the table.

Azriel opened his mouth to respond and Lucien rolled his eyes. “Never mind. You stole it. How else would you get it?” Lucien sighed. “Millions on counter-security—wasted.”

“Should have hired us.” Cassian said.

“Yeah, ‘cuz that was going to happen.” Lucien scoffed.

“I’m been looking through Tamlin’s financials, and… well, I’m still looking. Basically all of it is squeaky clean.”

“Of course it is.” Lucien said, rolling his eyes again.

Everyone stared at him.

“ _I_ handled all of it.”

“You-You did?”

“Yes! It was my job!” Lucien said. Everyone stared at him blankly. “Feyre, you know that!”

“I-You worked on his financials?”

“Feyre, what have you thought my job was for so long?”

Feyre shrugged. “I dunno, I thought you were like… a special level of assistant or something.”

Lucien stared at all of them incredulously. “Look, if you want to know Tam’s weakness you’re not going to find it there. Spring Court Consolidated is by the book. I made sure of that.”

“Okay, Big Shot, then where will we find it?” Cassian asked, he leaned back and put his feet up on the screen. Mor hit his ankles gently, and Cassian put them back down with a face.

Lucien frowned as he thought. He’d never thought about making trouble for Tamlin. “What-exactly are we looking for?” Lucien asked.

Mor glanced at Rhysand. “Are-are you saying we’re handing Lucien the reins and he doesn’t even know how to run a con?”

“I know how you run a con! You just cheat someone of something they rightfully deserve!” Lucien snarled.

“That’s not even remotely accurate.” Mor said rolling her eyes.

Rhysand sighed. “The con only works when someone is breaking the rules. The rule is you can’t con an honest man, because the mark has to think he’s getting something for nothing, and an honest man will never go for that.”

“What about people who set up fake charities?”

The nameless woman smirked in a terrifying way. “We don’t roll like that. And those who do don’t run in Subburg, not with us around.”

“Right,” Feyre said with a frown, “Lucien said something about you guys being the nastiest crew on this side of the Atlantic, is-is that what you mean?”

“Aw, you think we’re nasty!” The woman said with a flattered smile.

Mor rolled her eyes. “Stop creeping him out, Amren.”

The woman—Amren—sat back in her chair with a pout. “Sure, take the fun out of it.”

Lucien frowned. Amren, he knew that name… the heads of security Hart and Bron… they had mentioned something about a woman a few years back… She’d been on the watch-list of the local police department… she had gone by the name Amren but no one had ever gotten a picture of her…

She’d killed people. Blown up things. They’d joked that if you were abusive to your workers you’d have her on your hands. The Angel of Death for corporations.

“You… aren’t _the_ Amren, are you?” Lucien asked.

Amren shrugged noncommittally. “Depends. What’re you accusing me of?”

“The Steppes arsons?”

Amren smirked, her eyes glazed slightly as if she was remembering something.

“Fun times.” Cassian said appreciatively. “I remember that. We had workers in here for days while they found new jobs. Poor people, they deserved better. Great for us though. And them, they all moved on to better jobs and got good severance.”

“Yeah.” Amren agreed. “It was, wasn’t it.” But she didn’t answer Lucien’s questions. She didn’t have to.

“ _Any_ way-” Rhysand interrupted. “-all we need is something we can bait him with-something not kosher in Tam’s financials, in his habits, anything really. Anything we can use. Since assault and abuse will only put him away for a little while and get you both restraining orders, at best,” he grimaced, “ _love_ our judicial system-” he said sarcastically, “-our best bet is financial crimes. Because, while I hate Tam as much as the next guy I don’t think we can get him for life on multiple murder accounts or treason. He’s too smart to let himself get caught on most things, as much as I hate to say it.”

Lucien frowned. “Financial crimes, huh? Tam is brazen but he isn’t stupid. I taught him well. He won’t risk his business not-” Then something occurred to him. “Wait-Pull up his recent finances?”

Azriel frowned, but did as he was told. Lucien, read through them, searching until…

“Feyre.”

“What?” Feyre asked.

“No-Feyre. Feyre was in charge of his business deals, and me. Both of us were.”

Rhysand raised an eyebrow. “So?”

“No one knows the business, excuse my pride, like we do. _No one_.”

“ _So?_ ” Rhysand prompted yet again.

“So… Tamlin has this… friend, that he goes to when things go wrong-”

“And who might that be?” Rhysand asked.

“Hybern Holdings… I’ve always _told_ him they’re sketchy but he barely ever listened to me, without my advice that’s the only place he’ll be able to go to balance his work. Maybe… Maybe there’s an ‘in’ there?”

Azriel frowned. “Hybern Holdings… huh?”

“Yeah, why?”

Az sat up, typing them into Google, clearly looking for something. “That sounds familiar...” He muttered. The screen shifted and he began typing in code that Lucien couldn’t understand. Finally he brought something up, from ten years ago—a scandal involving a court case that had been thrown out because no evidence had been recovered.

Azriel glanced up at Rhysand, whose eyebrows raised significantly. “We’re going to need more data but… Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“What?” Feyre asked, confused. “What’re you thinking?”

“‘Al Capone Does My Shirts.’” Rhysand said, a grin coloring his face.

Azriel nodded, the others around the room leaned in, smiles that terrified Lucien on their faces. “Hell yeah.” Mor agreed.

“Lucien, your help was invaluable. We’ve got a game plan.” Rhysand said as Azriel dove across the table, typing things into the computer.

“What is ‘Al Capone Does My Shirts’?” Cried Feyre.

At this moment, the room split. Mor, Cass, Amren, and Az began planning the con while Rhysand explained it to Lucien and Feyre. “The con is simple. How did they catch Al Capone?” Rhysand asked.

“Tax evasion.” Lucien said. “Everyone knows that. But like I said, Tamlin isn’t stupid-”

“You’re right. He’s not, but there’s more than one way to evade taxes.” Rhysand said. “We’re going to set up a RICO case against Tamlin.”

“How? He isn’t a gangster.”

“We’ll use Hybern. If he has business dealings with Hybern they are technically profiting from him. The CEO of Hybern was already indicted for embezzlement, and only got off on a technicality. Which is good, because as much as Tamlin is a shit, he’s still pretty honest. Like I said before, you can’t con an honest man. To con one you have to get him to think he’s getting something for nothing in an illegal, otherwise it doesn’t work—they would go to the police and you don’t want that. Honest men don’t fall for that shit. But someone who already was indicted for embezzlement and got off? He think he’s invincible, _that_ we can use.”

“Oh, okay.” Feyre said, following the explanation.

“But what if he doesn’t go for it?” Lucien asked.

“He will.”

“How do you know that? You can’t just make people _do_ whatever you _want_!”

A silence fell over the room as the Inner Circle stared at Lucien puzzled.

Cassian snorted and his laughter snowballed. He wasn’t the only person—the entire Inner Circle burst out into giggles. “Dude,” Cassian said wiping his eyes. “That’s what we _do_.”

“Aw, you’re adorable.” Mor said between laughs.

Lucien flushed.

“After that we tip the cops and maybe help them along the way a little, and the rest is history.” Rhysand finished.

“So basically, you’re going to frame both Tamlin and Hybern, and then get them on… Gangster charges.”

“Yep! That’s the lovely thing about the Government, they try so hard to put people in jail they make laws that make it easy for us to entrap people. Hence, ‘Al Capone Does My Shirts.’” Lucien was about to ask another question when Rhysand turned his attention to the rest of the Inner Circle and so Lucien shut his mouth and watched them work.

“-Anyway,” Azriel continued, “we need a cop.”

“Honest man or dirty?” Mor asked. “Because I’ve got...” She counted on her fingers, “seven that fit the bill of the latter.”

“Honest man. We want someone Hybern can’t flip.”

Mor chewed on her lip. “Then I got nothing.”

“An honest man will never work with us.” Amren said. “They all hate us.”

“So then they won’t work with us.” Rhysand said. A smile climbed on his lip and he turned to Lucien and Feyre. “They’ll work with someone else...”

“No! No, no, no no no no! No!” Lucien said, jumping out of his seat. “I am _not_ lying to the police! I will not be an accomplice in this!”

“You gave us the in, Lucien.” Cassian said. “You already are.”


	3. Down the Rabbit Hole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a while but like I said a while back yall, I'm busy. 
> 
> But I promised I would finish this and that it wouldn't be orphaned and I'm trying to keep my promises so here ya go, chapter three. Finally. Don't hold your breath for chapter four but also, don't lose hope. 
> 
> I'm settling into my current job right now and currently updating this on my phone which is not as fun as it seems but the whole story is outlined and hopefully I will be able to write more now. 
> 
> Btw the style is different because I really tried to emulate the style of a leverage episode in the flashbacks to the plan etc etc, not all the rest of the chapters will look like this. But i'm probably going to play around with the style a little so that the story can be written the best dynamically I can make it (since really, heists are so much better when you can see them instead of read them). 
> 
> Warnings for drugs and abuse and tamlin 
> 
> Onto the story!

Alfred Hybern liked galas and money. He liked doing what and who he wished, and he wasn’t lacking in either of those things. Alfred loved going to galas, not that he liked the charity aspect—he was required to pay a little for these things—however, this was where he met new investors and more investors meant more money, and more money made him happy. 

So Alfred sat through the charity dinner, schmoozing with potential clients. The woman he was seated next to was gorgeous enough that he wasn’t offended to stay near her for six hours. Blonde hair that was tied up artfully around her head, a long red dress that clung in all the right places. Expensive and shiny jewelry. 

“I’m Andromache Nyxton, Mr…?” The woman introduced herself, holding out a perfectly manicured hand. 

“Mr. Alfred Hybern.” He said, taking it. He gave the back of her hand a gentle kiss. He saw the smile that flickered on her carefully aloof face. He resisted raising an eyebrow. Poker face was what would win him clients. Never show how intrigued you were. The smile meant that she was either charmed or liked him or both. Good, he could pluck her like the chicken she was. Or peacock—pretty enough, he guessed. 

“So,” Andromache Nyxton said, “what are you in?”

“Stocks. You?”

Andromache shrugged. “Imports and exports. You know.”

“Import/exports? At a charity?” 

Andromache laughed. “What can I say? The big boss wants some good press. I’m the Prythian associate.”

Ah, imports and exports, of course it was international. Foreign investors… different laws… tricky business. “Ah. I see.”

“And you? Here for the grilled chicken?”

“I chose the steak myself.”

“Wise choice.” Andromache said, smiling kindly. She leaned over and bumped his shoulder with hers, as if sharing a secret. “So did I.”

Hybern was beginning to like her. 

 

Alfred Hybern liked Andromache even more when she managed to secure the head of the Subburg hospital for IV bags, a man Alfred knew from experience who could not be convinced by just a pretty face. Alfred had sent his best, and Amarantha had been turned away. Points were to be awarded to Andromache. She slid smoothly in the minefield of galas. She effortlessly navigated through the intricacies of who sat next to whom and who owed money and favors to whom. 

It was like she was made for this. Born from it and wrapped in red and glittering negotiations. It was slightly stunning. Alfred narrowed his eyes. Almost too stunning. Something about her was just… too perfect. Too by the book. 

And she said she’d chosen steak over grilled chicken. What woman with her figure did that?

Andromache, flushed from dazzling the crowd and getting far too many business cards for any normal charity gala, leaned over to Hybern. She pressed a crystal glass to her blood colored lips. “You know,” she said, “as fun as these pigeons were to pluck, I’m interested in some bigger game. What about you?”

“Leave a gala early? It’s for charity.”

“What can I say?” Andromache grinned wickedly. “I’m just bad like that.” Then she took a sip of her water without looking at him. As if she hadn’t mentioned anything at all. 

“Plus, I’ve already paid my good samaritian points, and we’ve been here a good four and a half hours. So, what do you say? Up for a midnight snack that doesn’t come in a tiny portion?” She gave him a conspiratorial wink. 

“Why me?”

“Huh?”

“You’ve had more successful men than me fawn over you all night. And I’m pretty successful. So why me?”

“Because you’re not boring and you’ve been my gossip buddy all night long.” She said, toying at her napkin. She shrugged. “Plus, you’re the only person here who hasn’t handed me a business card. For some reason I like that.”

Alfred snorted into his wine. A silence greeted him and he looked up at her entreating expression. She was serious about going. Huh. 

Why not? 

“So, what were you thinking?”

_ “Here’s how it works.” Rhysand explained. “A holdings company does one thing and one thing only, it buys stock. Once a holdings company buys stock it can do one of three things, either it can take the money it makes from dividends, it can use its dividends to buy more stock, or it can make money by selling its shares and buying new stock. Almost all holding companies use their dividends to buy more stock, but they don’t technically  _ have _ to. This leave a lot of disposable money for them, and hopefully, for us. _

_ “We’re going to base the con off of one assumption: that we will be able to convince the CEO of Hybern Holdings to use a portion of his dividends in interstate or foreign criminal activities. Which shouldn’t be hard if he is so greedy that he skims money from a holdings company of all places.” _

_ Feyre looked confused.  _

_ “CEOs of holding companies can get very rich, very easily by doing things legally.” Lucien explained quietly. Feyre nodded.  _

_ “Now, to be charged with RICO one must be guilty of at least two of the thirty-five possible charges.” Mor said.  _

_ Feyre’s eyes went wide. “Thirty-five?” She mouthed to Lucien.  _

_ Lucien shrugged. Lucien was aware of the RICO act, but wasn’t an expert. He knew a basis of the laws, as he needed to as CFO. He had to admit though, the Inner Circle did seem to know what they were talking about. He’d never assumed that Tamlin would ever be arrested on gangster charges.  _

_ “We’ve decided on these two to set the CEO of Hybern—Alfred Hybern—on. But if he wants to commit some other RICO charges,” Mor smiled, “we won’t object.” _

_ Azriel pulled up some pictures of Alfred Hybern. “We’ll be focusing on money-laundering, and drug-running and smuggling.” _

_ “How will you get him to do that?” Lucien asked. “I assume you can’t just walk up to him and offer him cocaine and ask him to send it across state-lines.” _

These ‘midnight snack’ dates, as Mor had come to refer to them in her head, had started to take a toll on her shoes. The first night Mor had brought him to a club and they’d drunk and danced (with a bit of convincing on Mor’s part, but she could tell he liked how she flirted with him and pushed him). Then a week later, they’d happened to have been at another function together. Then another, and then, thanks to Azriel, yet another. Every night, Mor convinced Hybern to come out with her and party. Slowly, she amped it up. First it was alcohol, then a slightly more sleazy club. Slowly, slowly, she pulled Hybern to the edge. 

Then it was time. 

The night started out with them meeting up at a mixer for the opening of some law firm or another and Hybern was making subtle eyes at her all evening. Then, midnight came, and Mor excused herself and subsequently, like a lamb to the slaughter, Hybern did as well. 

And when she met him by his car, she smiled at him because sometimes, it was just too easy. 

Cassian was waiting for them when they made it to the club. “There’s someone I want you to meet.” Mor whispered to him, pulling off Hybern’s tie. 

Hybern’s eyebrow quirked. His carefully maintained poker face he used for business beginning to slip. Mor grinned, way too easy. 

Mor pulled him to the bar, and sat down, watching Cassian work behind it. “Your usual Andy?” Cassian asked. 

“Thanks honey.” 

_ “That is where Mor and Cassian come in.” Az explained.  _

_ “And yes we can get him to do just that, well  _ I  _ can.” Mor said with a wink. “Besides, we’ll have a good backstory to sell it. And maybe I’ll cozy up to him a little.” _

Cassian nodded towards the half-line of sugar on the table. Mor grinned and snorted up the fake-cocaine. Hybern’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. 

“Give him a line?” Mor asked. 

Cassian grinned conspiratorially and pulled out a dime bag. “It’s gonna cost.”

“Put it on my tab-”

“Nu-uh.” Hybern said. “I don’t do that shit.”

“Oh come on, Alfie. Sure you do. And this is the good stuff too-”

“Drugs are out of the question.”

“But Alfie...” Mor whined, swinging an arm around his shoulder. She pressed a pair of lips to his ear. “It’s not fun if I’m the only one doing it.”

Alfred Hybern narrowed his eyes. 

“Besides, no one will see us. Devlon won’t tell anyone. Will you, Dev baby?” Mor hummed, running a finger up Cass’ forearm. 

“You know me, baby. Quiet as death. Besides, what’s the point of selling you out?” Cass asked. His sleeve rid up a little which let his Nightmare Court tattoo show. Mor could tell that Hybern’s eyes went down to the tattoo. Therefore, he knew. And thus, the bait was set. Mor let the string of her dress slide off of her shoulder and expose the matching tattoo on her back. 

Hybern’s eyes flickered over to it, and he frowned. 

“Come on, Alfie. Have a little fun. I won’t tell.” Mor begged. “Besides, I’m paying.”

“You can’t pay for your own stuff, Andy.” Cass corrected. 

Mor laughed, and threw back her head. Hybern’s eyes dragged up her front. 

Cassian moved to put the dime bag back in his pocket. “Wait.” Hybern said. Mor grinned. Hook, line, and sinker. “Let’s have a little fun.”

_ “Okay, so how does Tamlin get involved?” Feyre asked.  _

_ “First, we need an investigation to get started, thanks to Rhys, the cop of our choosing, and… you.” _

_ “Me?” _

_ “I hope you don’t mind, Feyre. But we’ll require you to help us rope in the cop.” _

_ “Okay, so what do I need to do?” _

Vassa Russel frowned when she received a text from a number not in her contacts. She was about to delete it, assuming it spam, when she saw the contents. 

**I need protection, help me and I’ll report a crime**

Vassa cocked an eyebrow. “Uh, Goldie?” 

Regina Goldson looked up from her desk. “What?”

“You recognize this number?” Vassa asked. Detective Goldson walked over to Vassa, peering over her shoulder. 

“No.”

**You know knowledge of a crime without reporting it is a crime, itself, right?**

Vassa snorted. She pulled up 411.com. This was probably some kid, cases didn’t fall into peoples laps like this. Just to make sure, Vassa added:  **If this is a hoax, you realize that this is also a crime. You can get jail-time.**

The real question was why Vassa? How did this person get her private phone number?

The 411 search came up empty. 

Vassa expected for the number to never reply, but she didn’t block it. Just in case. 

Loud yelling brought her back to the moment. Vassa glanced over to the Captian’s office where his latest rich guy was having a tantrum. As a side effect of the many large and rich companies having their bases in Subburg, seeing rich men in the Captain’s office having conniptions was common. Usually though, it was the Vanserra patriarch, while the son in trouble in question would smirk at Vassa from across her desk. She would inevitably be told to let him go as the charges would be dropped somehow. 

Vassa hated them. 

This time it wasn’t Beron Vanserra behind the Captain’s doors. Instead, it was Tamlin Rose. Vassa’s ears perked up as he stormed out. The Captain right behind him. 

Tamlin Rose had only come to the police on one matter before, as far as Vassa could remember, when his girlfriend went missing a few months ago. She’d ended up being at her sister’s. Vassa hadn’t been on the case but she’s remembered it being all over the office. 

Tamlin Rose, it was said, was one who liked his privacy. Rare, among these types. Last time, his girlfriend’s bout of forgetfulness (the story was that she’d been needed home quickly and forgot to tell Tamlin in the craziness) had made the papers, but only just. 

This time it seemed, something he didn’t want the papers to know was happening. Tamlin Rose’s voice lowered suddenly when he stormed into the bullpen, a hand curling a paper into a ball. 

“Mr. Rose,” the Captain hissed, to keep the low voice, “this is  _ highly _ irregular-”

Tamlin Rose’s eyes flickered across the bullpen. Had Vassa done like her coworkers and look away—terrified of incurring the man’s wrath—she might have been spared his attention. But as it was, Vassa wasn’t one to back away. Ever. 

Tamlin Rose pointed at her. “That one.” He ordered and then stormed back into the office, door slamming behind him. 

The Captain made an expression of exasperation and anger, letting out a strangled groan along with it, and then gave Vassa the two finger beckon (which, for anyone keeping score, was much more dangerous than the one finger beckon). 

“Ooo~” Goldie hissed behind Vassa’s back as she stood to walk to the office. “Someone’s in trouble.”

Vassa wasn’t in trouble. At least, she couldn’t think of any reason she would be. She just gave Goldie a rude gesture without breaking her stride. 

The Captain’s door clicked closed behind her. 

“Sit down, Detective Russel.” He sighed. He rubbed his temples, as if to abate the headache of Tamlin Rose. If Vassa was being honest she’d never want to be Captain or Commissioner here. They didn’t let these rich men flounder like the other folk. They didn’t hold them accountable for the horrors they’d helped contribute to. So what if they donate a million or so, when that is barely a full hour’s work for them. All of them were born into their money anyway, not one worked a day in their lives. 

Though, Vassa supposed, if she had to pick one to support it may be Tamlin Rose. After he’d taken in that Lucien Vanserra… from what Vassa had heard Tamlin had saved the youngest Vanserra life. Though, he certainly hadn’t done anything significant for the community since then. 

“Detective, the matter Mr. Rose and I have to discuss with you is one of delicacy and importance-”

Vassa stopped listening to her Captain as he continued fluffing up the situation. Instead she studied Tamlin Rose. His eyes were bloodshot. His nails bitten to the quick. He was shaking. Actually shaking, as his arms rested against the chair. His knuckles were white. Even those surrounding the thing he clutched in his fist. His long hair was tossled in the unintentional way. 

“She’s gone again, isn’t she?” Vassa asked, halting her Captain. 

Tamlin Rose’s wild eyes flickered to her. 

“Have you called her family?”

“Of course I have.” Rose snarled. “Maybe I chose the wrong one. Get out.”

“Hey, it wasn’t that crazy a question.” Vassa argued, hands up in surrender. “You didn’t last time-” the glare she got from Rose should have silenced her. But it didn’t. Vassa’s best talent was pissing people off, and she was always up to a challenge. Vassa smiled in a way that was too close to baring her teeth. “-I mean really. Who wouldn’t have checked there first?”

“She had a bad relationship with her family.” He explained shortly. “But family emergencies bypass all discontentment. Don’t they?” He narrowed his eyes, as if he dared her to disagree.

Vassa shrugged. “Leaving twice without telling you… sounds like she wants to be gone to me.” The Captain beside her gasped in mortification that she would say something like that. 

“Feyre is… flighty.”

“That doesn’t sound like someone you want in a high position in your company.” Vassa felt like this conversation was more of a battle than a simple talk. She had a feeling that Tamlin Rose felt similarly. 

“She wanted a job, so I gave her a job.” Rose shrugged in a fashion that was meant to say the job itself meant nothing to him or her. But his shoulders were too tense for it to be believable. “Lucien does-” He froze, as if he’d forgotten that he wasn’t supposed to say something. Then he continued, more carefully, “Lucien  _ did _ most of her work anyway.”

“Where’s Lucien?” Vassa asked, voice cold. If Lucien was gone too…

Rose shrugged again, as if his friend was unimportant. “Probably with Feyre. She kept mentioning before she left that she wanted to go on vacation, and when I checked our room, some of her clothes were gone. Same with Lucien. I checked out financials and a few plane tickets to random vacation spots were placed. But when I called the airports said the tickets were never validated. I’m worried that Feyre dragged Lucien out on one of her whims and something… happened.”

He looked entreatingly at Vassa. “Look, I just want to know where she is and that she’s safe. If so, I’ll stop bothering all of you. Promise.”

Something about the fact that he seemed to only care about Feyre Archeron rubbed Vassa the wrong way. 

“I’m not missing persons. I’m financial crimes.”

“Which was why Mr. Rose here picked you. He-”

“Last time Feyre had a fit of flight, I went to the missing persons unit here. I was promised that they would keep my privacy. The tabloids got ahold of the story anyway. Now, I’m going a new way. Don’t tell anyone about the details of this case or I will ask you to be removed from it.”

Vassa didn’t like being ordered around. So why she agreed she wasn’t sure. Maybe for Feyre’s sake, although why she felt that Archeron and Vanserra needed her protection, she wasn’t quite sure either. 

“I’ll send you the necessary information.” Tamlin Rose said. He stood and turned, walking out. 

“Thank you for not being… yourself, Vassa.”

“What?” Vassa asked bitterly. “Were you afraid I would scare him away?”

“Vassa… just do what he says.  _ Please _ .” The Captain begged. 

Vassa stood and waved to the Captain on her way out. “No promises.” She had work to do. 

It was only once she’d left the Captain’s office that she checked her phone, surprised to see a response from the unknown phone number. 

**I must keep my anonymity for my safety.  The crime I am going to report is one committed by Tamlin Rose.**

_ Okay, _ Vassa thought,  _ now I’m interested.  _

_ “Then what?” _

_ “Then, we make up some emails, fudge some details, hack a few things...” _

Lucien scrolled through Azriel’s computer files. He’d said he’d work on convincing Hybern to launder the money he received as payment for smuggling by working him. Leaving ads and other subliminal messages to control him. He said con artists used them all the time, that Mor in fact was doing it right now. That she had mentioned that her favorite season was spring and that she loved roses. The color red which she always wore. It was all part of the act. 

Lucien was distinctly reminded that everything these people did was calculated. No words were out of place, no sentences unmeant.

Lucien felt wrong. He felt-

“Don’t open that file.”

Lucien jumped about a foot in the air.

“What?”

“Don’t open that file.” Azriel said. He came up from behind Lucien and pulled up a chair to the giant moniter-table. “It’s one of the ones for Hybern. It’ll try and convince you to put stock in Spring and Co. So, you know, I wouldn’t.”

A wry smile graced Lucien’s face, just before he made eye contact with Azriel and then dropped it. Lucien slid his mask back into place. 

“You’re really going to send that to him.”

“Yup. Half the work in these cons is me.”

“Wow.” Lucien tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut. Half of Tamlin’s work was Lucien too. Without him, Tamlin may not be lost but he’d certainly have to recover quickly. 

All those people… out of jobs. 

What was Lucien doing? What was he  _ thinking _ ? He had to go back! If he went back now, maybe Tamlin would-Maybe Tam would forgive him. Maybe-

Azriel put a hand on Lucien’s. “Don’t even think it.”

“But-”

“He hit you Lucien. He hurt you. He abused Feyre. You’re better than him, Lucien. Trust us. We’ll deal with the repercussions. We always do. Somehow, Rhys always comes up smelling like roses—good ones—and he always brings us with him. He’ll bring you and everyone in our wake too.” Azriel squeezed Lucien’s hand. Lucien’s eyes dragged down to his fingers, which are gnarled and nail-less from some long ago burns. 

And again, Lucien doesn’t feel so alone, only this time he didn’t want to go back. Lucien pulled his hand back. Azriel leaned back. 

“You want to stay? You can see what I do. I have a nagging feeling you’ll like it.”

Lucien let himself smile. Azriel didn’t look at him, as if he knew that eye contact would make it worse. Instead, Azriel just began to work, and Lucien watched. 

_ “You know, the usual,” _

_ “And voila: we’re golden, baby.” Rhys said. He leaned back against his chair proudly, a sly grin on his face. “Our inquisitive cop will check into Tamlin’s financials, find the inconsistencies. Dig a little deeper. And finally, he’ll go to jail.” _

_ “And what if that doesn’t work?” Lucien asked.  _

_ Az glanced at Rhys. Cassian snorted. “It always works.” _

_ “Until it doesn’t.” _

_ “Foxy, you worry too much.” Cass said.  _

_ “It’s a fair question, Cass.” Az said. “Would it help if I told you that this is only Plan A?” _

_ Lucien’s eyes widened. “Only Plan A? How many ‘Plans’ do you have?” _

_ Rhys shrugged. “Enough.” He said. And that was the end of that. _

Azriel fiddled with the fake mustache he’d donned to help him attempt to stay unrecognizable. The janitor uniform Cass had found for him was too small, but it would have to do. He was halfway to the server room when he saw her—her burning red hair impossible to miss. 

Azriel, as inconspicously as possible, snapped a picture of her and sent it straight to Rhys. 

**What is she doing here?**

The response was quick. 

**_Hang on_ **

**_Lucien says that Tamlin hates her, she shouldnt be there_ **

**Lucien knows Amarantha?**

**_Says she’s Hybern’s chosen associate to deal with Tamlin_ **

Azriel dropped his phone into his pocket so he could pretend to be busy with cleaning while Tamlin and Amarantha stomped by him. Of course. Of course their luck would mean that Hybern’s contact with Tamlin was the most notorious fixer alive. And a complete sociopath at that.  Tamlin was hissing like an angry cat while Amarantha seemed slightly amused. 

“-none of your business-!” Tamlin snarled. 

“Darling,” Amarantha flipped her hair over her shoulder, her cruel eyes narrow despite the amused curl to her lips. “Everything about this company is by business.”

They stormed down the corrider and turned, footsteps echoing. 

Azriel pulled out his phone.  **Whatever she’s here for… it can’t be good.**

Rhys’ response was quick.  **_Agreed._ ** There was a pause, then:  **_okay, i’m calling everyone in. We need to regroup. We go to plan C for now_ **

Azriel dipped his phone back into his pocket. Plan C it was.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr @bastardsonofday if you want


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